Trial Period
by LizzehBoo
Summary: Sam comes to Freddie with another idea. Things get a little out of hand, in good ways and bad. SEDDIE


**Trial Period**

**(Author's Note: I've been writing a lot of Seddie one-shots lately. 0__0 I just love writing dialogue between these two. This came from a discussion on Bickering Sidekicks forum, and my fanfiction senses started to single - so yeah. I had to write it.)**

**--**

"You can't be serious."

But lo and behold she was. I could tell by that slight smirk on her face, the mischievous fire twinkling in those dark blue eyes. She was leaning against my window (in which she had previously entered through), her arms across her chest and an eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Hey, it worked the first time, right? We got it over with."

"This is different," I said, a little cautious. I was dealing with one dangerous woman. Not that I _hadn't_ dealt with her over the years, but this was land mine territory.

"Not really. It's just like kissing, just..."

"Not at all," I finished for her, still not moving from my spot on my bed. I was kicked back, looking awfully relaxed for someone whose stomach was in knots.

"Sure it is."

"Why are you pushing this?" I finally asked, sitting up a little straighter. I honestly didn't know. Sam was always a pretty girl and had definitely not gotten uglier when she started to develop into the seventeen year old girl before me. I couldn't really understand why she was raising the idea to me when she could have probably had whoever she wanted – whoever wasn't afraid of her at least.

Well, I suppose that was part of the reason. But Sam had mellowed at least a little in the past few years. Yes, I was still the subject of many violent tirades, but she knew how to flirt with men. I'd seen her melt many a classmate with just a look, but all were too intimidated to speak to her. After all, it wasn't every day a person came along a girl with a body like hers that could flip said person over her shoulder without a care.

She shrugged. "I dunno. I just figured it'd be easier to have a little experience."

"So you're asking me."

"Yep."

"...Why?" And there was the question. She could answer honestly or cruelly. Or both.

"Because I knew you wouldn't turn it down. Cause you're desperate."

She went with both.

I frowned. "Well, maybe I won't."

"Oh, come on, Fredward. You're a little momma's boy who has had blue balls for years thanks to Carly. You've only kissed a few girls. I'm fairly sure you've never stuck your tongue down their throats 'cause you're way too afraid of what they'd think."

"Do you have to word that so vulgarly?"

She continued. "That's why your girlfriends broke up with you, y'know. You didn't have enough nerve to take a chance. Nice guys finish last, y'know."

"At least they finish," I grumbled.

There was a moment of silence as a grin broke across Sam's face. "Careful with that joke – it's a classic."

I felt a smile tug at my lips too, but I refused to show it. This was serious business. Well, sort of. It was to me.

"So let me get this straight. You come all the way over here at eleven at night, climb in my window, and just ask me to make out with you so you know what it's like?"

"So _we_ know what it's like. I mean, hey – when we did the kiss thing, it didn't get awkward or anything right?"

That was a lie and we both knew it.

"Um... no. It got _very_ awkward. Remember when Carly found out? That was _ridiculously_ awkward!"

Sam made a face. "We were, like, fifteen then. Come on, we're adults now."

"No, _I'm_ an adult now. You're only seventeen."

"Yeah, Fredward, try to hold that over my head when I can throw you over mine without an issue."

"If you weren't so violent, boys would want to make out with you, y'know."

"I want a boy to like me for who I am, dorkwad."

"But you want to make out with me."

She tucked a blonde lock behind her ear. "We all have needs, Freddo. Now, what do you say? You wanna do this or not?"

I pursed my lips, feeling the complications of the question rush over me like a wave. I had two options: tell her to leave, which would make things awkward – or tackle her, which would also make things awkward.

Well... what did I have to lose after all?

After a few moments of faux-deliberation, I sighed. "Ah, I guess. You owe me, Puckett."

"Me? Owe you? Please, this should be enough for you to owe me." She crossed the small space between my window and my bed and crawled across the mattress, almost slithering like a snake. And evil-Sam snake. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure of this. Sam was violent in everything she did. That awkward first kiss didn't count. Making out included movement. Most movements with Sam Puckett included punching or some other horrifying attack. I was then very aware of why men avoided her. Getting to kiss this little tart came with a electrifying sour aftertaste – I could almost guarantee. But at least I knew she wouldn't kill me, for Carly's sake of course.

Then, she was above me, gazing down, showering me in a curtain of strikingly angelic curls, her supple lips pulled into a confident smirk that was rather frightening at the same time. I stared up at her, waiting for the worst, when a soft hand cupped my cheek – _cupped it._ I was nearly dumb with shock.

"Uh--" I started, but she moved in slowly and pressed her lips to mine.

It started just like the first one, unmoving, almost afraid to move for fear it was the wrong one. We stayed there for a moment or two, like the stupid, immature kids we once were. I had to remind myself – _It's all business. Get it over with._ So I moved. She seemed a little surprised that I moved first, but I'm sure she was more pleased that she could toy with me. I caught her upper lip between mine, suckling on it ever so slightly, a little lost at what the hell I was supposed to do and taking my cues from all the romantic comedies my many girl-friends-but-not-girlfriends had dragged me to see over the years. Sam, however, seemed to know exactly what to do. She pulled so softly, gracefully at my lip that for a moment, I couldn't believe it was her hovering over me and not someone much sweeter like Carly or Wendy – both of whom had left far more destruction in my path than Sam had, oddly enough. I parted my lips to try to get in again, but she took it as a great opportunity.

So she shoved her tongue between my lips. At first it was a bit weird, the warmth and the force on my jaw, but something sparked in my finger tips, tingling all the way down to my loins, and I couldn't really refuse her. I pushed back with mine rather timidly. I felt her smirk against my mouth, and one of her strong legs swinging over my body so she was straddling me. The sparks in my loins turned to fire, and suddenly timid wasn't in my repertoire. This was just another fight for dominance, and I knew that I had to do my best to win. I didn't win often, but when I did, it sure felt great. I pushed myself up slightly, gripping her face with my hands, my tongue battling with hers in a ferocious tango. Her long-fingered hands slid under my shirt and up my back, her chewed, jagged nails leaving uneven scratch marks in my mothered skin, and her legs clenched tightly against mine. One of my hands traveled to her neck – _God, her neck is so hot. Was her skin this hot before?_ - then down to one of those lovely breasts I'd been caught staring at once or twice. She groaned against my lips, and it sent a bolt of lightening through me. Reality struck me.

_What the hell am I doing?!_

Well, it was a little late to turn back now. She wasn't exactly protesting. I did move my hands to her hips though. She bit my bottom lip, tugging it toward her for a second before releasing it and diving back in for more. My eyes rolled back in my head as she made her way down my neck with those soft, swollen lips, coupled with small nips here and there – just enough to keep my attention. She was winning again. I decided to be brave and try another tactic.

I slipped my hand off of her hip and around to her ass, gripping it tightly. She made a noise of surprise. _Point for Freddo. Muchos Gracias._ Not that I was really keeping score. All the blood was leaving my brain at the moment. I couldn't understand why I had ever been timid with any girl. After all, being timid had never gotten me this – and she still hadn't hit me or anything. She sucked a spot on my neck, sending prickles of pain through my veins, and leaving a rather apparent bruise there – I would have to wear a sweater for a few days afterward. And then her hands were in my hair – _how did they get there?_ - mussing and making me feel so much badder than I actually was. We were back at each others lips in no time, and as the heat began to rise in the room, my senses began to dull. I wasn't sure if it was because of lack of oxygen or because my testosterone was fluctuating so heavily, but my hearing grew muffled only to the sounds of our grunts and groans as we groped each other fearlessly, rumpling the covers on my bed. My eyes had been shut for quite some time, my brain relishing in the moment of passion. And she grew more and more violent with her movements, and I, to my own surprise, enjoyed it even more. We were beating the crap out of each other and ravishing each other simultaneously. It was quite an adrenaline rush – not knowing what would come next.

And I didn't know.

Which was a mistake.

"**FREDWARD BENSON!**"

I don't think I've ever hit the earth so quickly. I rocketed straight through the atmosphere and back to my bed, back to reality, and back to realizing that my mother had just walked in on me with a girl that she quite detested straddling me on my bed with her tongue in my mouth.

Not good.

My vision was blurry as it came back into focus, and I gingerly turned to face my mother. She didn't look mad, actually. I was fairly sure the shock had paralyzed her in the doorway. _A good time to escape at least._ Sam seemed rather stuck as well, her hands still on my neck, her eyes wide like a caged animal. Her lips were swollen and red, and a flush was smudged on her cheeks. I could taste her lip gloss on mine and see strands of stray hairs poking into my vision. My hair was _never_ in my face.

Yes, it was looking pretty grim.

"Uh..." I stammered, my voice feeling very hoarse. "...Mother... uh..."

I looked to Sam for help. Apparently her idea of help was to crawl off of me and retreat back to her spot by the window – as if it had never happened.

It was a little late for that.

"Mother?" I questioned.

She still hadn't said a word, her graceful hand gripping the doorframe tightly enough to where I was worried the wood would break apart or explode. I swallowed, knowing that my fate had been determined.

But she looked a little dazed.

She lifted a shaking hand to her forehead, turned, and walked away. I exchanged a look with Sam.

"That was weird," she said.

I was terrified. My mother had never done that. I didn't care what had happened – she had always overreacted. I rushed out of the room after her, leaving Sam in her place by the window.

"Mom?"

She was sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. She turned to me and smiled. "Oh, Freddie! What are you doing up? You know I just had the strangest dream?"

_Oh, God. She's lost it. She's gone nuts. She's completely snapped._

"A... dream?"

"A nightmare. I dreamed you and that awful Samantha-girl... oh... nevermind. What do you need, my sweet boy?"

I couldn't believe it. She'd been so shocked, she had completely shut down. Her mind simply could not take the strain and quickly ejected it before she could process it. I was virtually in the clear.

"Oh... nothing. Just... checking on... my mommy dearest," I gave her a nervous chuckle, petting her hair like a good little boy.

"That's my good little boy." She patted my cheek. "Go back to bed. We wouldn't want you getting sick from exhaustion."

"No, no. Wouldn't want that. Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, Freddie. Would you like me to tuck you in-"

"No! Er... no. I got it. Get some rest, Mom. You're looking a little pale."

I returned to my bedroom, expecting any moment for my mother to reprocess the previous scene and come running for me, but she didn't. But I knew I had to worry the rest of my days for when that moment would come. Sam was still standing in her place by my window, picking at a thread in her hoodie sleeve.

"Your mom okay?"

I looked at the door and back to Sam. "I... don't know."

"So..." she said.

"So..." I repeated.

Well, I knew it would be awkward, but _that_ awkward was a stretch.

"I may have... gotten carried away. A little." She said, gesturing with her thumb and forefinger to show how much _a little_ was.

It was a severe understatement.

"So uh... that's how that whole thing works, eh? Got the experience you wanted?"

"Yep," she said.

We both found fascination with my carpet for a moment.

"So, um... thanks, I guess," she said.

_What do you say to that? _"You're welcome?"

Sam opened the window and swung one leg over, pausing in the frame. "...We should... do this again sometime."

"Are you serious?"

She looked at me and shrugged, then turned to leave.

"Hey," I said.

I could feel her smirk before she turned around. "I hate you too."

She stepped out onto the fire escape, closed the window, and made her way back down to the street. I sat on my bed, right back where the whole thing had started, and blinked away the confusion for a matter of minutes.

The girl never ceased to confuse and amaze me, that was for sure.

So, now, I await my death – be it by my mother's hand after seeing me in the arms of one Samantha Puckett – or by the throws of passion that said Puckett sends my way.

Either way, I still think this might just work out in my favor.


End file.
